The Capital of Grim

Have you ever been to Dungeness? I have, twice now. I’d be happy to go again because there’s nowhere quite like it.

It’s made of gravel, you see. Miles of gravel with bits of grass growing on it.

There are houses on the gravel, all made of wood and looking a bit battered. There are abandoned fishing boats on the gravel. There are rusting shipping containers dotted around randomly on the gravel. There are brick-built kilns standing on their own in a desert of gravel. There’s a miniature railway with tiny steam trains. There’s a lighthouse with a fog horn that makes a really loud beeping sound. There’s a massive nuclear power station. Everything is grey. And I really can’t emphasise enough that there’s lots of gravel.

It’s fascinating and lonely and strange. While I enjoyed being there, and will probably go again one day when I’m bored, it’s quite grim – the most beautiful and pure grimness anywhere in the world. Visit today! Dungeness, the Capital of Grim.

The sting

I was going to make a content-free post that would be blatantly and cynically intended just to get me up to four posts for December and win me a coveted bean. But then something happened that was worthy of making a whole post, so actually this will have something in it.

I’ve decided to buy myself a big Lego set as a Christmas present to myself, because I want one, and I’m a grown up so nobody can stop me. I was going to do it on Friday night, but now I have plans on Friday, so I set off to do it after work yesterday instead.

What actually happened was that I got to the Lego store, found the shelf where my Lego set should be, and saw that it was empty. So I asked one of the staff.

While he was explaining to me that it was sold out, and looking up when a new delivery would come in, I felt something odd on my head, and put my hand up to see what was in my hair. It felt like sticking my fingers into a ball of needles. A spiky black thing fell on the floor, crawled away for a bit, and then flew off. “Oh yeah,” said the assistant, “we’ve had wasps in here today”.

Wasps? In the Lego store? In a big shopping mall? In December? Unlikely, yes, but a wasp is what it was. A big bastard of a wasp who tried to sting me several times and did actually get his syringe of doom into my little finger.

So last night I went home, very very late, with no Lego, but with a wasp sting on my finger.

That’ll show me.

Christmas inventory

It’s the end of Christmas now, and there’s no more Christmas left to be handed out, so it’s time to count up and see what this year’s season has poured into my jug.

Clothing

Ten socks
Brown and yellow checked shirt
Mr Bowie t-shirt

Confectionery

500g slab of chocolate
bag of hilarious chocolate “sprouts”
Box of generic Sainsbury’s assorted chocolates

Kitchenware

Small saucepan
Camembert baking dish
Carrot peeler in the shape of a giant pencil sharpener

Books

XKCD book
Road Signs history book
Something regrettable by Su Pollard

A reasonably good haul, all things considered. Well done everyone. Let’s raise a glass to Santa.

A Dearth of Posts

This is an emergency broadcast on behalf of the members of the PB Committee.

It has been brought to our attention that between the mirth of Ian’s birthday and the joys of frantically planning for Christmas, there has been a distinct absence of posts on da beans. In order to facilitate and satisfy the general public’s desire for new posts this post has been posted in order to fill the gap until more new posts can be shipped in from abroad.

Staff are working round the clock to ensure that fresh posts will be delivered within the next 48 hours. All that the members of the PB Committee ask is that people are patient enough to wait a little longer, indulge a little further, drink a little harder, and before you know it you will be swimming in factual information and endearingly hilarious titbits.

There will also continue to be the overwhelmingly distinct absence of Kevin.

Thank you.

A close encounter

So, the other day at work, I was being at work and doing work stuff in one of our little glass boxes, when I became aware of some sort of kerfuffle or brouhaha taking place just outside.

I turned to see a whole crowd of people from around the office floor all trying to take pictures on their phones. In the midst of them was a camera crew trying to set up to film a TV interview.

With them – dressed all in white from head to toe, and wearing the most tasteless crown imaginable – was Miss World.

Virtually every man on the entire floor queued up for a picture with Miss World (none of the women seemed interested), but because I was working in my little glass box, working and doing work, I didn’t actually meet her or get a picture to prove this happened. But what I DID get were these two incredible pictures taken through the glass that clearly show the close encounter I had with someone who is, according to an unassailably democratic process, officially the most beautiful woman in the world, apparently. And that is basically just as good.

Sexatronic eviction

Gentlemen, we have a crisis. Sexatronic – my oddly named neighbour and subject of a hit single by The Papples – is about to be evicted from her ground floor hovel overlooking Church Road.

I suggest you do as I have done and write to your MP (remembering to CC the Queen) demanding that the Government steps in to prevent this impending tragedy.

The Edge of Popular Culture

You see me, right? I’m not very good at keeping up with what is fashionable and popular amongst the general population. I must say, however, I was downright confused when I came across this in Primark:

So, I guess this is a thing. Has everyone else been wearing mens lingerie and they just haven’t told me? Are there underground mens lingerie clubs where people strut around in their hosiery and take photos on selfie sticks? Has my imagination ran away and hid under the stairs because such a thing cannot possibly exist, or has the world lovingly embraced dudes in delicate pants?

Please. Your comments please.

From Newcastle to Leeds (and back again)

Now I know that everyone loves it when I put up posts about pointless things that I bought and there hasn’t been one for a while so no doubt people are salivating at the prospect of one for November or December. The truth is though that I haven’t had much spare cash to fling about in the face of sensibleness. I almost did on a relatively expensive thing but changed my mind at the last minute. So how about something a little different?

Last Monday I undertook an epic quest (?) to Leeds Brudenell Social Club in order to see two brilliant Canadian bands called P.S. I Love You and The Rural Alberta Advantage. There are several points to consider though:

1. I don’t live in Leeds anymore
2. I don’t drive yet
3. I needed to be at work the next morning

With this in mind it all seemed a little crazy, and it was. I board my train from Newcastle just after 6pm. It went straight through to Leeds with no detours, which was good, but the whole journey takes about 90 minutes and I’ve never been to the Brudenell before so I have to take a taxi. I caught one and arrived around 8pm and as the doors only opened at 7:30pm I hadn’t missed anything. Great. I take a seat and read the schedule; first band on at 8.20pm and second band on at 9:20pm.

I have to catch a taxi back to the station at 9:50pm in order to catch my train at 10:10pm. This means I will catch about half of the second band’s set which isn’t too bad.

But then disaster. P.S. I Love You don’t clamber onto stage until 8.35pm. Whilst they perform a blistering 30 minute set to an almost empty room I enjoy every minute of it. At first I sit towards the back so I can take in the whole stage. It is only ten minutes in that a group of people then choose to stand right in front of me, despite most of the room being empty, to watch the band. One woman even turns around, looks me dead in the eye and then carries on standing right in the way. I choose to move forward and sit on the steps closer to the stage. Another man then blocks my view about twenty minutes in however he is the sound guy and must be checking the levels. He’s clearly upset as he returns several times to check. All I can hear is ear-shattering rock n roll music however I do not work in the music biz and my ear drums were destroyed at least two decades ago from listening to Dr Hook and the Medicine Group way too high.

So this delay then sets a chain reaction off. P.S. I Love You leave the stage but the second band don’t get back on until around 9.36pm (I’m being precise for a reason). I get to see around twelve minutes of the Rural Alberta Advantage before I get the call back from the taxi firm and have to head off. I leave just as Amy Cole is explaining that she visited a honey farm during the day and spent about fifty quid on honey products (bless).

The expense doesn’t end there though. My train back to Newcastle does not arrive until midnight, by which time the Metros have stopped running so I am forced to get another taxi home. What do the numbers look like? Let’s run them through down here:

Gig Ticket – £12.00
Train ticket to Leeds – £14.00
Food for the train – £3.00
Taxi to Brudenell – £6.00 (I gave a respectable tip)
Gig Merch – £10.00 (P.S. I Love You were kind enough to sign them too)
Taxi to Leeds Station – £6.00 (another tip)
Coffee at McDonalds – £1.50
Train ticket to Newcastle – £14.00
Taxi Home – £12.00 (such a generous tipper)

Total – £78.50

I spent a full £78.50 for less than fifty minutes of music. I think that makes me dedicated and much better than everyone else and I knew that before I even started writing this post.